The George & Dragon's unfussy, seafood-dominated cooking ticks all the right
boxes for Matthew Norman.

I did not tell him this for fear of strangling our embryonic friendship in the womb. But Mr Robin Lane of Devizes, who wrote a while ago requesting that all reviews state whether the restaurant under consideration plays music and, if so, what and how loudly, was not my first choice for the childish prank I played on him over lunch.

That dubious honour belongs to Bill Bailey, the comedian, actor and musician, and a man so endearing that I am thinking of founding a religion devoted to his worship. He lives not far from us in west London, and a young man of my acquaintance and I go on scouting missions to the road where he often has breakfast at a pavement table. Mr Bailey famously has an acute phobia of Chris de Burgh, and our plan is to creep up behind him while he is sipping his cappuccino, and hit him with Lady in Red at maximum volume. Apart from the joy of having him privately reprise the grimace of excruciation that grips him whenever he hears this ballad, the purpose is to test the limits of his tolerance.

Experts in Baileyist theology aver that the Chris de Burgh Test is equivalent to Christ’s temptation in the wilderness: to one of Mr B’s delicate sensibilities, three bars of CdB would surely feel like 40 days and nights in the stony desert. If he lashed out with a croissant, we would have to think again about the deification.

Bailey has featured lately, in mortal form and at very long odds, in betting markets for the new Doctor Who. But in England you do not require a Tardis to travel through time. All you need do is drive from as lively an urban locale as Shepherds Bush to as picturesque a village as Rowde, and the decades melt away.

Sitting in the enchanting garden of the George & Dragon, as recommended by the said Robin Lane, I found it impossible to pinpoint the date. But as the birds chirruped and the church clock chimed 1pm, a tranquil aural symphony suggested the early Fifties.

“Yes, it is lovely and peaceful here, isn’t … Good God!” Robin interrupted himself, pulling a face of Baileyan disgust as I covertly activated the iTunes button on the phone, “What the hell is that?” That, I explained, is Lady in Red by Chris de Burgh. “Ah. I see what you’re up to,” said Robin, an opera buff and keen amateur singer who, like so many of us, loathes background music when dining. “Most amusing. Now make it stop.”

No music, needless to say, is ever played in the low-ceilinged interior of the George & Dragon, an inn dating back to the 14th century. Despite that, and despite an original by the celebrated painter David Inshaw, who also lives locally and later manifested himself in the garden with a friend and a cairn terrier, it was too gloomy inside for a gorgeous summer day.

Rural life is frankly not for me, but sitting in the garden it occurred that the clean air, friendly neighbours, glorious scenery and relative dearth of drive-by shootings might be almost bearable with a joint of this quality on the doorstep. A very slick operation, it cutely marries proper pub homeliness (pickled eggs behind the bar) with the standards of a serious restaurant (smart napery and cutlery, not to mention very competent, if untrendy, cooking). It even has the cunning to underscore that early-Fifties atmosphere by rationing the bread, which does not arrive unbidden but must be requested at £4.50 the basket (with olives). A jot too professional perhaps.

'The largest crab I have ever seen' (Pic: Christopher Jones)

An enticing menu is dominated by fish and shellfish sent daily from Cornwall, and the cooking is unfussy, accurate and highly impressive. Robin has spent his working life in the wine trade, and after choosing a fine, sharp, citrusy Australian riesling (a markup of the usual 300 per cent, he reckoned, but decent value at £25.75 the bottle), he began with a medley of asparagus and smoked salmon slathered in hollandaise sauce. “The asparagus is not too al dente and just right, and the salmon is delicious. So’s the sauce, although it is on the verge of separating.” My starter of grilled crayfish, from the nearby River Kennet, arrived with a dinky little meat-scooper, as well as a finger bowl filled with warm water (hyper-professional). But the shell of the crayfish is so soft that it can, nay, should be eaten whole. A buttery, garlicky sauce could have used some chilli to give the crustacean some kick, but this was a novel and colourful dish for all that, and a sensual delight.

Showing the exquisite manners we expect of loyal readers, Robin then contrived to cut his finger on the claw of the largest crab I have ever seen, spattering his shirt with blood to make the butter marks on mine less humiliating. “Fresh, nicely dressed, just fantastic,” was the verdict as first aid was applied. “I prefer crab to lobster. It tastes of something.”

My monkfish, ideally cooked to retain its meaty texture, came in a really delectable cream and peppercorn sauce. Side dishes of honey-glazed carrots and sautéed new potatoes dotted with capers were immaculate. So were a chocolate and raspberry roulade and a sticky toffee pudding with caramel sauce, both served with lashings of Jersey cream to accentuate the early-Fifties, sun-never-stops-shining, Darling Buds of May aura hovering over an almost perfick summery lunch.

The George & Dragon, High St, Rowde, nr. Devizes, Wilts SN10 2PN01380 723053. Three courses with wine and coffee:about £60 per head. Set lunch: two courses £14.50, three for £17.50